


Skin Deep

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Marvel
Genre: Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, dumbassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Clint falls off something, okay so he jumped. Same outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

>  Found this on my HDD a couple of days ago. Cleaned it up a little. No redeeming qualities whatsoever. Except maybe stoned, beat-up Clint.

Even before they put down the last of the killer robots Clint could feel the bruises blooming across his shoulders and the side of his face. Getting knocked head first into a pile of rubble was never going to be Hawkeye's favorite thing and he was really feeling it by the time they were given the order to stand down.

The top two floors of the building he was on were basically wreckage and it took him a few minutes to find his way out from under. By the time Hawkeye made it to the fire escape he was unsteady on his feet, whether from blood loss or blows to the head was up for debate. He made his way down the metal ladder but his hands kept slipping, and he was also a little fuzzy headed. or maybe dizzy. Plus blood, lots of blood, on his hands. Man that shit is slippery once it's on your outside and starting to cool/congeal.

Clint slipped a couple of times, but tried to take extra care to make sure his feet were firmly planted on each rung. By the time he got to the bottom he was barely able to stand and maybe not thinking straight.

He stood on the lowest stair platform blinking stupidly at what he was seeing. The bottom section of the ladder was gone, blasted away in the fight. It had been there when he scaled it a couple of hours ago. This made getting down tricky, but not even close to impossible. Clint didn't think of calling Iron Man or Thor for a ride, he could just jump. It didn't look far down.

Turned out he was wrong.

Clint figured _that_ out when he hit the ground. He tried to roll with it but his head bounced against the pavement when he landed, loose-limbed and barely in control. His next clue was the pain. And then the dizziness. And the puking. And the not being able to stand up. All good indicators that Clint was maybe a little more banged up than he'd thought.

He face planted in the grit and garbage of the alley. After that everything got fuzzier and then dark and none of it was his problem any more.

 

Clint was still out when Cap found him passed out in his own vomit, so Hawkeye missed most of the fuss.

“Found him,” Cap relayed over the comm-link. Clint didn't even twitch when Steve reached over to check for a pulse. “He's alive,” Caps cool tone confirmed, not letting on that for an instant that he'd thought the reverse was true.

It got exciting there for a bit, even after Cap realized he wasn't dead. He found out later the he'd looked bad enough it wasn't immediately obvious, uniform ripped, blood coming out of his ears, face covered in bruises, and most telling of all his bow laying in a trashed heap out of his reach.

Clint didn't respond as he was loaded onto a stretcher, or when on IV was inserted. He was still out cold an hour later when he was wheeled away for a CAT scan. It was just as well, the distressed looks on his teammates faces, their concern, would have only made him feel worse.

 

He lived. Which, yay. Nothing was very broken, also yay. Coulson called him an idiot, which, par for the course, and said a bone was either broken or not it wasn't really a matter of degree. Clint tried to argue the point but he was in medical hooked up to an IV full of _really_ good shit and kept losing his train of thought. Whatever, he was still sure he'd won the argument.

Clint gets out after two days so he can't be that bad. But every square inch of his body _hurts_. And they kept all the good drugs in the infirmary. Coulson said if he wanted more he'd have to stay longer. Clint went home with Tylenol. And Natasha. Which felt like some kind of punishment. It probably was. Coulson could be kind of a bastard that way, especially when Clint wanted out of the hospital.

His escape should have been way more fun because Natasha hated his apartment (and he had beer in the fridge) Except he was to messed up to drive. And Natasha _didn't_ drive (Clint was never sure if it was because she couldn't or because she enjoyed terrorizing people into to doing it for her. He'd give even money on either one... or both). ANYWAY. The point was Clint _couldn't_ drive because he was as high as a kite and not an idiot. Natasha _didn't_ drive, and Coulson thought he was an idiot. So that left Tony's chauffeur, apparently, who was currently waiting patiently by the elevators for Clint. Which was actually kind of really fucking boss. Because hello, chauffeur driven limousine.

Except that Happy worked for Tony Stark who was sneaky and kind of a belligerent asshole when he offered you a place to stay while you healed up and you had the nerve to say no thanks.

Which was how Clint ended up kidnapped and dragged to Stark tower where there was a fridge full of beer he wasn't allowed to drink until he could walk to the can without groaning. Natasha knew all the towers pass codes so Clint couldn't get away from her incessant need to call him a moron for falling off a ladder. It didn't help his case much when he pointed out he had jumped not fallen. After a couple of days he stopped trying to defend himself and just gritted his teeth and hoped she get bored of it soon.

Of course it wa Natasha so she took a deep, perverse pleasure in holding up a mirror for him so Clint could see all the marks on his back. It was actually kind of spectacular. And shaped like a robot foot on one side and a ladder on the other. Clint thought it looked pretty bad ass until Tony started calling him Rainbow (because dude lookit all the pretty colors) then it was just annoying.

He drank three beers the first night JARVIS didn’t lock him out of the beer fridge and passed out on Tony's expensive looking leather sofa.

It took 2 hours after he woke up the next morning to realize he had a perfect replica of Tony's goatee drawn on his face in magic marker.

This entry was originally posted at <http://jesseofthenorth.dreamwidth.org/243468.html>. Please comment here or there using OpenID.


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